


Silver Needles

by PrinceLiv



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! 5D's, Yu-Gi-Oh! Series
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, I hate u Elsza, Mental Health Issues, Past Abuse, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-08
Updated: 2015-09-08
Packaged: 2018-04-19 16:32:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4753247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrinceLiv/pseuds/PrinceLiv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack used to manage to believe that his escape from Godwin was enough to leave the painful past behind. But then it starts to remind of itself in more and more disturbing way. Meanwhile, someone else ends up in Director's mansion under his dubious care.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silver Needles

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> Hello, welcome to this little, crazy shit  
> I started this story a few months ago, then stopped writing, then returned to this  
> First off it was supposed to be a lolcontent, y'know  
> But then it ruined me with feels; at it's not a spoiler.  
> Also, sorry for possible language mistakes - I'm not a native, and this story is my translation from Polish  
> I'll be very thankful for every comment, really.

"Director, your guest has rejected to accept the new clothes."

Standing in the doorway, the woman was bending down politely. Through the falling onto her eyes blue wisps, she was staring at the tips of her shoes, not daring to raise her glance at the motionless figure of her boss. Apprehensively, she was waiting for an outburst of anger, and blaming her for not fulfilling the duty.

To her surprise, no such a thing happened. She was still facing back of Director, whose impeccably stoical posture did not change in the slightest. The woman could not notice a light smile across his lips, but she clearly heard a heartfelt note in his voice, "According to my expectations." Then, the typical cold returned to his tone, "What else do you have to say?"

The woman's hesitation lasted for one second too long.

"Mikage?" He rushed her impatiently.

"The task proceeded seamlessly, Director."

"Very well," he commented almost gaily. "And now go out."

"Yes, Director."

In the reflection of window glass, he was watching Mikage curve in an even lower bow, before she left the office. From a quick clatter of her high heels, coming from the corridor, he concluded that the woman was in a real hurry to wander off. He did not mind the fear he caused in her. Moreover, she welcomed the contempt without demur; he took advantage of her submission in order to intensify yon fear. The assistant had been annoying him since forever. Her irritation was another, pleasant profit of Jack's escape. Furthermore, her fascination with the runaway guaranteed the most painstaking accomplishment of the entrusted assignments.

Everything was evolving perfectly. Even the sunny weather seemed to mirror the delight filling Rex Godwin's heart.

Having had adjusted the snow-white gloves, he took a seat behind the desk, and crossed his legs gracefully. Poured wine into a glass. The dry flavour of the several dozen years old alcoholic drink was an excellent time-killer; because at the moment all he had to do was wait.

*

_I wanna hide the truth, I wanna shelter you._

*

In the beginning, Jack had nearly managed to believe that the slipped through the door's chink little, pink piece of paper with written in calligraphy  _The king's place is on his court_ had been simply a joke. He used to delude himself that he had not recognised the slanting writing, and any possible similarity had been only an ironical coincidence. Though, during next month he or Carly had been finding another messages, more and more daring in their short contents. Each one of them had ruined the pretence of inner balance Jack had hardly rebuilt after the last two years, replacing the unstable calmness with the well-known anxiety.

He tore the newest letter in two, then into smaller parts. But even when he threw away the tiny shreds, Jack could not resist the impression that he would not be able to get rid of the smell the paper wore, that it would not leave his fingers, yet, sank into his skin for good.

"Leave me alone," he growled as turned around, and discerned Carly. "Don't say a word," Jack ordered, and she immediately pressed her lips back together. "I need some time alone."

The rest of the day Jack spent in the bedroom. He did not respond to the calling for a dinner, same as to the later, quiet knocking on the door. The curtains had been keeping drawn, since one morning Jack had woken up to the windows stuck with familiar, characteristic notes. Back then, he had comprehended that the recent time had affected not only his psyche. When Carly had caught him vomiting, he had been faking sickness; the remorse had been no different than his anger with himself he had been feeling for long, because of hiding the truth. Explaining himself that he had had to protect the only person he had had left had not helped at all.

"Jack?" Carly once again attempted to commence a conversation. "Jack, if you're not sleeping– "

"I am," he cut her short more sharply than meant to.

"It's important," she did not give up. "You have guests."

"Tell them to leave."

She went away, but was back in a moment, that time not bothering herself with courtesies. "There's a package from them at your door," she stated, her voice lacking the former kindness. "If somebody comes to you again, maybe deal with them on your own, if that's the way you're gonna speak to me in from now on."

"No one asked you to deal with it." And although he regretted his words at once, Jack lapsed into silence.

When after opening the tied with a white ribbon box the content fell onto the bed, Jack's mouth got arid. At first, he reached for the envelope; the letter smelled like all the little pieces of paper he'd been receiving. He was beginning to feel sick again, and nausea grew worse as he read the message.

_Good day, the King of mine,_

_I am sure that you already miss your toys. However, I hope you do not miss them more than me. If out of any ridiculous reason you have other impression, I enclosed a friendly reminder._

_With constant devotion,  
_ _Director of your heart_

He turned his gaze onto the lying nearby cell phone. The device was a gift from Godwin Jack had gotten right before his escape from the hated mansion. "For good conduct," he had heard. The mockery playing in Director's voice, and the contrasting tenderness of his touch, while he had been stroking the blond wisps, remained engraved in Jack's memory. Even now the long fingers seemed to be rambling among his hair, then move down his cheek, lower onto his bottom lip in order to part it… Jack clasped his fingers onto his black tank top as found his own hand follow the same way his thoughts were outlining.

Having had grabbed the substitute for his dignity, Jack started seeking for what Godwin mentioned. The sound of hasty clatter onto the screen was being interrupted by nothing, but Jack's unnaturally fast heart beating.

" _Director, is it really necessity_?" He picked up his own, trembling voice.

The mobile phone slipped out from Jack's hand, and dropped onto the bed. He remembered the moment, like many other times, when Godwin used to force him into submission; he had never had to demean himself by blackmailing – at least not out loud.

There came a sigh. In his mind's eyes Jack saw Godwin beam kindly, yet, the clasp of his hand on Jack's naked shoulder had nothing in common with delicacy.

It was too much, he had enough of that. However, Jack froze, incapable of making any move.

" _Jack, have I not made it crystal clear?_ "

" _I'd prefer–_ "

" _The King of mine, I will let myself notice that nothing you are to say starts from_ I'd prefer _._ "

" _I am sorry, Director._ "

" _All right. You wanted to tell me something, did you not? Jack?_ "

" _Y-yes… I love you, Director._ "

*

_Don't get too close, it's dark inside._

*

Jack was trying to bustle as noiselessly as possible. Carefully, he opened the wall cupboard, in concern that even a squeak of hinges would wake Carly up. Though, she did not awake until the kettle whistled, letting know of boiling water.

"For God's sake, again?" She moaned drowsy.

"Go back to sleep," he replied with care. "Don't pay attention."

Her breath itself was enough for Jack to recognise whether she was asleep or not. He put it down to his frequent visits in the kitchen during sleepless nights, when he would prepare tea to compose himself, or quite the reverse – brew coffee in order to evade sleep, and everything it could bring. Waiting for a beverage to get steeped, sitting beside the table, numerous of times his look would involuntarily head towards the sleeping girl; Jack would curse the flat for being so microscopy, and intimacy favouring. Sometimes he would get up from a chair to adjust her quilt, or take out of her hands a book she had fallen asleep reading. Sometimes he would accomplish to lull himself into believing that those gestures had been meaningless, even if a desire to sit by her side at least for a brief while had been hard to resist.

He would have never supposed that someone's presence, confirmed by regular, deep breath, could be soothing. Regardless, despite of demons of his past, and his own brokenness, if Jack still had a chance to feel safe, he found it in Carly's closeness.

Aware of his own problem with showing affection, and fear from losing his independence, though, Jack did not dither as despair suffocated him from the inside. "Carly?" He poked at her lightly.

"Jack," she replied half-asleep.

"I've brewed tea."

Carly blinked. Without her glasses, it took a moment before her sight got used to darkness within the room; she spotted the steam from two cups snaking up towards the ceiling, the silhouette of Jack, who was wrinkling in both hands the fabric of his pants, right above his knees.

„Can't you sleep?" Carly asked.

"I wanted to drink tea with you."

"You know that we can drink tea together any time you wish," she smiled at him. Sitting up, she ensured that maintained the proper length between Jack and herself. Carly did not utter aloud her astonishment when he closed that distance. She also passed over the fact that he said nothing except for a silent "May I?", and giving her no time to answer, rested his head against her shoulder. Nevertheless, Carly whispered an agreement, tangling her fingers in his hair.

Jack was not used to be treated affectionately, let alone showing affection himself. So he never reacted enthusiastically on Carly's signs of sympathy. However, he also never gave her to understand that the random meetings of their hands, or rare, placed on his cheeks kisses were not greatly welcomed. The sincerity of those gestures amazed him, and moved the strings inside of him that Jack had never had an idea about. Though, he was paralysed with an idea of crossing the line of safe uncertainty.

„I am sorry," he mumbled eventually. When had been the last time he had said such words out of his own will?

„Everything's alright." Carly did not even ask for what he was sorry. It did not matter to her, especially when she was enjoying softness of Jack's hair under her cheek, and her cold legs were warming up thanks to the blanket Jack had put on them.

"You shouldn't be involved in this madness."

"It's not your fault."

It worried him that she sounded as though knew about everything. As though the whole knowledge did not stop her from accepting him. The possibility looked funnily unreal.

Jack took the passed by Carly cup in his two hands. His lips pressed against the porcelain edge, till he drank the whole beverage. The tea cooled down already, but its aromatic fragrance was still wandering in the air. Jack closed his eyes. Like nothing else he desired to be able to revel in the embrace he was closed in, intoxicate with its bliss. It was how calmness would have been like. Except that calmness would not have been tormented by any painful memories, which not were chocking his breath. His head was spinning.

„I am sorry that I have let you down," he whispered. "I am sorry," repeated like mantra. "Please, let me undo– "

"Jack?"

But he was not listening. In the terrifying silence, he was staring at the floor, his eyes extremely widen, shaking hands out of his control. As if from a distance, Carly's full of concern words were reaching him; she seemed so far-off, much more than the figments of his imagination – more real than anything else in the room. Jack did not orientate when the clinch attenuated. But at the gentle touch upon his wrist, he dropped the cup involuntarily, and it smashed into pieces on the hardwood floor.

Jack jerked up ere Carly reacted. He would have not coped with scorn, that he had been enduring over the last two years, if had perceive it now in Carly's angelic grey-blue eyes.

He must have cleared his mind. Get back control over his emotions. But he already completely lost control over himself.

Having had shut the door close, Jack stormed into the room. There was still the same low voice ranging out in his mind, the familiar praising phrases, and ironical, affectionate reprimands. His imagination was serving him view of the smile he used to wish he had been able to tear off with nails from  _his_ face. Even when he had lost faith that another shots had a right to end up otherwise than with a compulsory immobility.  _The King of mine, how fragile you are._ A cold, horrifyingly strong grip.

„Jack!"

He heard a scared shout of Carly, yet, did nothing to calm her down – he was not able to calm down even himself. For a few seconds of a wonderful delusion he was desperately sticking to an illusion that loud noises might have muted the ones poising his mind, but when the faint hope collapsed, Jack plummeted to the bed, pulling his own hair achingly.

The music paused. He did not oppose when two gentle hands loosened his fists. Silently, Jack greeted her frail arms that encircled him, same as their slow rocking. He caved in, just like had been taught. Having had hidden his face in the crook of her soft neck, Jack inhaled the sweet scent of a cheap perfume.

„May it end," whispered hoarsely Jack.

The long silence were disturbed only by flutter of Jack's heart and his irregular, hurling his chest breath. Single teardrops were rolling down his cheeks, leaving tiny, wet traces on Carly's skin. He was feeling so small by her side, even if it was she whose knees were reaching barely his stomach, and her fragile body was getting lost in the tangle with his body. Why did he had nothing against that intoxication? Even if he already knew that the next day he would not be able to look into his own, let alone Carly's eyes.

„Jack, if there's anything I can– "

"Take me somewhere," he interrupted her imploringly. "I need to go out."

"Of course." He shivered from the way she kissed his forehead. "Give me a moment."

Hastily, Carly left the room, on the way stumbling over threshold. In a moment, she was back, her glasses tilted, hoodie put on her shoulders sloppily. In a rush she had not even changed her tracksuit shorts. Jack, having had wiped his face with a sleeve, passed Carly by, and headed to the front door.

A puff of fresh air had never been that brisk before. Jack had breathed it in, then walked down the street with Carly hardly keeping pace with him. In the yellowish luminescence of the street lights, she was observing his distinguish posture, stoicism that did not reveal anything seething under his emotionless mask. She should have done the same, she was repeating to herself. For Jack's sake conceal her nervousness.

Jack stopped at a small playground, a low fence from one side, where he took a seat on one of the wooden swing. He was waiting for Carly to do the same; sit down on a swing next to him, and they would spend another long minutes in a complete quietness, harmoniously avoiding a talk about his panic attack and everything connected with it.

The ideal plan foundered practically at once. Carly did not execute the unspoken agreement, but stood behind Jack, grabbing the thick chain.

„You should lose your weight," she laughed, when she set the swing in motion. Jack's boots shuffled against the ground, not dragging away from the soil.

„What are you doing?"

„Giving an advice?" She responded innocently to his sharp tone. "Look, I can barely swing you!"

„Why are you touching me?" Elaborated Jack, although he did not doubt that he already made himself clear.

„After all,  _Jack Atlas hates fun_ ," she mimicked his tone.

"Stop it." That time she pushed the swing having had put her both hands onto Jack's back. "Don't treat me like a child," said Jack as she repeated the action.

„I don't, Jack. Anyway, there's nothing wrong in having a child inside."

"No. No one takes you serious."

"I wouldn't stop taking you serious if you smiled from time to time."

„I've already smiled more times than for the last years in general, but it's still not even  _from time to time_ for you?" He replied in annoyance, before realised that he said more than intended. It did not diminish the validity of his words, though.

„No," reassured him Carly, remaining unnoticed a prick of sadness which the unexpected confession caused. She remembered many times when Jack would reply with monosyllables only, or sink into apathy for all days long. The will to hug him stayed restrained. "It means a lot to me."

In the descended silence the only noises were squeaks of the swing, and whirrs of sporadically driving cars. Carly did not insist on a conversation. Jack seemed to be more relaxed, and there was nothing more she needed.

He surprised her again tonight. First time, when suggested to switch places. Afterwards, when between another light pushes, he brought up the subject that Carly was tactfully avoiding.

„Do you know how it feels like to be punished for who you are not?"

She did not know.

„Carly…" Jack started, but then fell silent. „I'm not ready to talk about it. You understand, right?"

She nodded.

"I do. Don't force yourself."

„Will," he hesitated, „something change?"

With a scrap, Carly rested her feet against the ground, causing the swing to stop. She got up, then, shakily, stood onto the seat of the swing, holding the chains in order to keep the balance. Though, soon one of her hands left the safe support, and leaned her hand upon Jack's shoulder. In a moment, she did the same thing with her other hand.

„Why would it?" She asked. "Look at me," added when he averted his eyes from her. He did not listen. Carly grasped his chin, and force an eye contact. "Jack, anything what happened doesn't matter anymore. What do you expect, a condemnation? I will not turn my back to you."

The warmth played in Jack's heart, bringing him the coveted relief. Calmness was almost an euphoric experience.

„You are wonderful," he whispered barely audible in an uncontrolled inflow of unknown until now feelings; if it was a weakness, for a first time he had nothing against. At the same time, after Carly's assurance, he preferred to stop the conversation, as though in a fear that she could change her mind. Right now it was good. It was enough.

„Could you repeat?" She grinned, putting her arms around Jack's neck.

„I called you bothersome," he replied in a serious manner, wrapping his arms around Carly's waist. „Don't stick to me."

„So let go of me."

The grasp tightened. "I have to carry you."

"I will not fall down if you let go of me."

„ _I_ will."

Tightly, Carly clenched her hands onto the fabric of Jack's white coat, clinging to him. With his eyes closed, Jack closed her in an embrace. He held his, once again heavier, breath for a few seconds.

„The stars are so beautiful tonight," Carly broke the silence. "Let's not go home yet."

*

_Don't wanna let you down, but I am hell bound._

*

_They came in together. She joined him on the bed after taking off her glasses and his coat, hung back in the wardrobe. They are lying sideways, facing each other. She is caressing his arm, he is stroking her hair. They are keeping quietness for another thirty minutes and forty-two seconds. Then, he says something; the words unintelligible at first, but approximately recognised, "Good you're here." In approximation of the screen seen that it made her smile. She grabbed his hand. Kissed it six seconds later._

Godwin turned his look from the leaf of paper onto his right hand. "My little King taught her his own habits," he stated joyfully.

Yeager nodded. A grin had been spreading across his face since he had handed Director the last night's report. The hours from quarter past two a.m. to four past three a.m., next from twenty-six past five a.m. to two to six a.m. Personally, he preferred the second part. He could not wait to see Director's facial expression after reading about the panic attack Jack Atlas had woken up with, what had awaken his lovely partner, too. She had been whispering him some stories, and rubbing his back till he had fallen asleep again. Not going to reveal too quickly the most pleasing to the eye fragments though, patiently, he was following another text lines with his glance.

_He responded with a nod to her assurance that "everything'll be alright." She said, "Remember, if something were about to happen, it would already occur."_

"Did she sound confident? Or maybe her voice was trembling?" Inquired Godwin.

"She was speaking with conviction, Director," Yeager expressed more precisely.

"What a smart girl. What does she see in him? What's your opinion?"

Yeager stopped himself from speaking out loud the suspicion that maybe the same thing which Director used to see. He knew that it was not an expected answer; giving any different one would have meant lack of common sense.

„I have no idea," the clown stated. "It's puzzling."

„Indeed," affirmed Godwin. "Soon she will become convinced that except for the impressive body, there is nothing more Jack Atlas could offer."

„It won't last longer than two months," Yeager giggled.

"Three months and one week," bided Godwin.

"The winner will send her a letter of congratulation."

"You don't think I'll let you appropriate for yourself the best part, do you?" Director called the clown to order.

„No way," lied Yeager. „I was just kidding."

Godwin muttered under his breath something about clowns' jokes, then returned to reading the record, what clearly improved his mood.

He grew serious as heard knocking on the door.

"Director?" Mikage articulated from the other side.

"Come in," commanded Godwin. Having had obeyed, the woman closed the door. She did not dare to look at Director. Instead, she averted his eyes both from the cold glance of her boss and the monitoring screen, too aware of what the most likely she would have watched. "I hope there is an important explanation for your intrusion."

„Your guest hasn't been moving since yesterday, Director" she informed. "He's still sitting on a windowsill, and the window is wide open."

„Yeager," Godwin reacted immediately, "we will finish later. Let me know if something worthy of notice happens. And you," he addressed Mikage, "remember eventually, not  _a guest_ , but  _our new household member_. Enough time has passed."

„I am sorry, Director. Our new household member, Yusei Fudo."

"Exactly," Godwin headed towards the exit. But he stopped in the doorway, and, beaming, looked at her over his shoulder, "Mikage,  _coffee_."

 


End file.
